


we made our peace with weariness (and let it be)

by eachdayexceptweekends



Category: The Last of Us
Genre: "nothing happens but feelings" trope, Character Study, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Light Angst, Rated teen because of one swear word, mmm i posted this two days ago but i accidentally deleted it, so here it is again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:35:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25261696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eachdayexceptweekends/pseuds/eachdayexceptweekends
Summary: She looks around, standing in the empty hallway, light streaming in from the second floor all the way downstairs, and tries: “Home sweet home.”Because they’re home, whatever that means, surrounded by people with families and kids that don’t have to worry about becoming soldiers at sixteen.Joel chuckles. “Yeah.”
Kudos: 25





	we made our peace with weariness (and let it be)

Riley knows what she’s doing well enough.

So Ellie follows her, jumping from rooftop to rooftop, wind ruffling her hair and blowing into her ears. She breathes it in, and it makes her lungs sting a little, cold and piercing.

Thankfully, the older girl stops to stare off in the distance at the dark city below them (they are terrifyingly high up, so the few soldiers milling about the streets don’t see them), and Ellie has time to put her hands on her knees and catch a breath.

“That all you got?” Except she’s panting and everything hurts a little, but she’ll pass out from exhaustion long before she’ll even consider admitting it.

“In less than three months I turn sixteen.” Riley turns to her. “That’s how long I have to find a way out.”

“What else is there?”

Because really, as far as Ellie’s aware, there are only two ways her life could go from this point: a) she could stay at the school for maybe a few months until she causes enough ruckus to get kicked out and left to fend for herself somewhere in the QZ, or b) if she’s obedient enough, one day she could be qualified enough to be a soldier. And then she’ll die fighting rebels or Infected.

She’s not sure which path she hates less.

“Have you ever ridden a horse?”

“What? No.”

“Follow me.”

Riley jumps down onto another rooftop. Ellie follows suit.

* * *

Joel doesn’t talk much.

He guides her through the streets, not saying anything unless he needs to, until eventually they get to a safe room of some sort.

“Your watch is broken.”

He scoffs at that, and it isn’t long before he’s dozed off on a ratty couch and she’s left alone with her thoughts. Joke books and a Walkman sit heavy in her backpack. She doesn’t touch them. 

At some point it starts raining, and she’s thankful for having it to focus on. She watches droplets of rainwater run down a window, imagining the droplets as cars and droplet-car races. She makes small, quiet sounds of victory when they all reach the bottom of the windowpane.

Then Joel wakes up and Tess walks in, so they get moving.

The next few hours are a flurry. The downtown area, the museum, the Capitol building.

By mid-morning, Tess is gone, and the weight of it settles in her chest.

“Now, there’s a town a few miles north of here…”

They keep going. From Boston, all the way to Pittsburgh, to Jackson, to Eastern Colorado, to Salt Lake City.

* * *

Ellie follows Joel back into Jackson.

She trails behind him and tries not to be bothered by everyone staring, all the way from the gates to the empty house by the cemetery. Tommy hands Joel a set of keys and pats her on the back, and then they’re alone again. Joel and Ellie, except they’re not constantly on the run.

She looks around, standing in the empty hallway, light streaming in from the second floor all the way downstairs, and tries: “Home sweet home.”

Because they’re home, whatever that means, surrounded by people with families and kids that don’t have to worry about becoming soldiers at sixteen.

Joel chuckles. “Yeah.”

Adjusting takes time; they spend their first week just focused on settling in, picking out furniture, getting groceries (groceries!), receiving their work assignments. Joel gets guard duty, says he’ll try patrolling once they’re more comfortable.

She makes some friends. Their names are Jesse and Dina. She learns that both of them arrived in town just a couple years ago. Dina makes her laugh and Jesse’s their voice of reason.

Soon enough she has her own makeshift little apartment for them to hang out in, the small shed behind Joel’s house. It’s big enough and it’s hers. Ellie loves it.

* * *

Tommy leaves behind a trail of small camps.

Just before Boise, they find one on the side of a main highway and decide to stay there for the night. It looks safe enough, though Dina still insists on a few noise traps. Ellie scouts the perimeter.

She picks off the few Runners wandering around the nearby buildings easily. It’s muscle memory, sinking her switchblade into Infected and listening to them gurgle, then moving to the next. For a while there’s nothing for her to worry about but the rotting, deadly figure around the corner.

Dina’s already heating something over a fire when she gets back; it’s some canned soup they picked up a few days ago.

“Thanks.”

Ellie receives a hum in response.

“Wish you could play guitar for me.”

She grins a little at that. “Oh?”

“Would’ve been nice, you know.”

“Being serenaded?”

Dina punches her shoulder playfully. “Yeah, stupid. I miss seeing you be a softie.”

Something in the air shifts.

Ellie blinks. They’re quiet, for a moment.

“I’m sorry.”

Dina sighs. She looks up at Ellie, and the world stills, just for a second. “It’s okay.”

* * *

She’s back in his house again.

It’s surprising how clean it still is. It’s like he hasn’t even been gone a day. The dishes on the table and the mug on the counter she remembers have long been washed and stored in one of the cabinets. 

Everything is mostly the same, but it’s colder. It settles under her skin and wraps around her bones, an uncomfortable, unexplainable feeling that makes her mouth go dry.

Ellie’s not sure why she’s here.

But she takes note of the books that are still on the coffee table. She runs her fingers along the fretboard of a half-finished guitar. A small figure of a man on a horse sits in front of a window, wood shavings already brushed into the bin and thrown away.

She walks into the last room on the left.

His clothes have all been packed into neat little boxes, tucked away and stacked on top of each other in the closet. She rummages around and finds it, an old, worn coat, brown and too big for her. She shrugs it on anyway, burying her nose into the collar.

It’s almost gone. His scent, wood oil and home, and it makes her mad. It makes her chest tighten and forces her to close her eyes and steady herself. Because everything he left behind looks like it doesn’t belong here, not anymore.

Because he’s gone and he just left her here, not knowing what to do with herself. Because they were supposed to watch a movie together and maybe eventually she’d learn to forgive him.

Fuck.

“Ellie?”

She whirls around and Tommy is there, standing on the other side of the room, one eye less than she’s used to. He fumbles and has to lean on the table with the record player, but he manages.

“Hey.”

She doesn’t know how to reply.

“Maria said you and Dina are moving into the farm.”

“Yeah. We, uh…” She blinks away the wetness in her eyes. “Figured we needed some space.”

He nods. “JJ okay?”

“He’s alright. He got a little sick last week, but he’s okay.”

“That’s good to hear.” 

Their eyes don’t meet each other’s, so Ellie looks around, at framed photos on a dresser, at boxes of a dead person’s clothes, at reading glasses on a nightstand, at a guitar, at a crate of vinyl records.

Abruptly, “I’m gonna make her pay.”

“Ellie…”

“I promise.”

Tommy shakes his head. “Ellie, stop.”

“I don’t…” She looks at everything tucked away in this corner of the world, left to gather dust like it’s all meant to be forgotten.

“I can’t keep doing this. Not with her still out there.”

A beat, then, “Okay.” His mouth draws into a straight line. “Okay.”

* * *

Ellie chases every piece of intel she can get about the braided woman and the boy with scars across his face, chases the way fighting makes her forget, just for a little bit.

She forgets the wrong things. Warm eyes and memories of a home that’s hers become hazier.

The braided woman takes a final swing with the club, and on cue, a guttural scream is ripped out of Ellie’s throat.

* * *

She camps in a cabin just outside of Jackson.

She’s alone out here, living on smaller game and whatever food she still had on the way back. It’s reminiscent of that winter, when she and Joel were on the way to Salt Lake City, except she isn’t constantly worrying about coming back to a dead body, because it’s already been buried, proper headstone and all.

Drawing takes her mind off things when there’s nothing to fight, so she draws just about everything. She draws a canopy of trees while she’s hunting, draws the fireplace before she goes to bed. Sometimes she’ll draw Dina with JJ, or Joel.

Ellie draws everything worth remembering.

* * *

Soon enough, a patrol finds her. She runs into them on her way back from hunting, carrying a rabbit and wearing her pack (just in case she needs to run).

One of them recognizes her, thankfully. She really didn’t feel like dying to Derek, of all people, after making it this far.

“We thought you were dead.”

Ellie swallows the lump in her throat. “Well I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Right.” He gets back on his horse. “You coming?”

“Yeah.”

Survival leaves her grasping at the threads of something that will make it all worth it, redeem her for everything horrible she’s ever done.

He reaches out a hand, helps her get up on the horse.

She walks into Jackson one more time.


End file.
